Crutches
by Crutcherella Wormwood
Summary: Jack breaks his foot and is put on crutches for a good few weeks, but what happens on his very first day? Most importantly, how's his now-ironically nicknamed best friend taking it? Insert brotherly fluff/angst/bad-assery/fluff here. Canon era.


An oldie (a few months) from tumblr that I forgot to post here when I first wrote it. I went back and decided it was still somewhat mediocre, so here we are. Let the over-sappy JackCrutchie BroTP feels rage on.

~CW

...

Lightly venting the collar of his shirt in the lingering summer heat, Crutchie leaned against the concrete facade of the doctor's office, anxiously awaiting his friend's return from the redwood double doors with the questionable stain on the lower right corner. He had studied them carefully, since he had a lot of time to wait; and with that, a lot of time to worry. Jack had busted up his foot on the fire escape just the other night and could barely limp. As long as it wasn't being amputated, he'd get better soon... Right?

He also had to worry about the Delanceys being out and about. They usually didn't show too much on Sundays, but he was all alone...

The doorwith the stain finally rotated open with a minuscule whine, and the boy scooped his crutch back under his arm as he stood straight to see who it was. Sure enough, the valiant Jack Kelly emerged, his right foot laced up in a toe-to-knee cast, his own wooden crutch at his side, and wearing the grumpiest frown in all of New York.

"Jack," Crutchie murmured in relief as he hurried over to his friend.

Jack turned his head and began to suggest a small smile. "Hey, Kid, can you believe that-"

He was cut off as Crutchie threw an arm around him and tackled him into a hug. He could feel his good foot slowly slipping out from under him and grabbed desperately at his crutch.

"Cru-Crutch-CRUTCHIE!"

Jack hurtled down to the pavement and hit hard, dragging Crutchie stumbling right along with him.

"Sorry," He grumbled, flat on the rough sidewalk. "I forgot."

Jack coughed out a cuss and a chuckle as he struggled to sit up. Reaching over a few feet, he picked up his crutch and gestured to it. "It's fine by me. I think I got the hang of the old thing already."

Crutchie just gave him a cheesy grin of premature amusement, like a child with a secret. He glanced at the ground. "I can see that."

"What?" Jack asked, leaning forward and squinting his hazelnut eyes.

"It's just kinda funny, ya know," Crutchie mused. "How I'm the one with the trouble walkin', usually, but now it's all flip-flopped."

"Trouble?" Jack scoffed sarcastically. "Me? Got trouble?"

"I mean, it's understandable," Crutchie assured him, though Jack couldn't help but ignore the musical styling of a jokester in his words. "First couple days is always hardest, 'course."

"Days? I don't need days, Bud." Jack shook his head. "Ya may be the toughest newsie in Manhattan, but this whole crutch business ain't somethin' special. I can get along jus' as well as you."

"Ya sure about that?" Crutchie questioned as he rolled onto his good knee and carefully climbed back onto his own crutch.

"'Course I am," Jack replied, trying not to look too impressed that the other boy had gotten re-oriented in a single fluid motion. He stuck out a hand to Crutchie to help him up, but his friend quickly shook his head, golden hair dancing across his forehead.

"No, no. You said you got it, and I jus' wanna see if you really do."

Jack gave him a glance of incredulity before shrugging it off. "A'ight then," he said. Getting a firm grab on the brick surface of the building beside him, he dragged himself to standing on one leg and made several attempts to jam the crutch into place before finally getting it right.

Granted, it probably took him a full minute, but he made it.

He held it with both hands and sort of made to push off of it as he took his first few steps, handling it more or less like a giant walking stick. His back was curved in such a way that it couldn't have possibly been comfortable, and he put a good amount of thought into each individual step.

Crutchie snorted back a chortle.

Jack looked at him with a sigh. "What?"

"Pick up the pace, Moses, I don't think the Red Sea'll hold up forever."

"Quit it," Jack grumbled as Crutchie covered his growing grin. "It isn't the littlest bit funny."

"I know," Crutchie agreed. "It's the BIGGEST bit funny."

Jack went to lightly rap his arm with his own crutch but completely compromised his balance. He wobbled in suspension in the least graceful way possible until he fell back, slouched against the wall. That's just about when Crutchie lost it and doubled over in near hysterics.

"Yeah, yeah, yuck it up," Jack said, though the laughter was infectious, and he couldn't stay annoyed for long.

"I'm sorry, Jack," he choked out between gasps for breath. "So, so, sorry..."

Little to the knowledge of the two boys, however, they were not alone on third avenue, not even on such a slow Sunday afternoon.

In fact, the possibility didn't even occur to Jack until after he had finally climbed back on top of his crutch and promptly had it swiped out from under him. He began to fall backward once more but was caught in Crutchie's free arm.

Morris Delancey struck the palm of his hand with the crutch like a baton, mimicking Crutchie's over-the-top laughter. He advanced with a cocky, swaying gait.

"Aha ha ha," he smirked. "Never thought I'd live ta see twin crips on these streets together." He leaned in close to Jack's still-startled face. "An' one of 'em none other than the famous Jack Kelly."

"What do ya want, Morris?" Jack questioned, still dependent on Crutchie's support to stand.

"What, a pal can't drop by jus' ta say hello?" Morris plucked the hat off of Jack's head. He flinched slightly. "You're a much more fun character to hang around with in your current state, I've gotta say. Hard ta have such a big mouth with such small stature."

"Morris, don't you start," Crutchie warned.

"Oh no, don't tell me," Morris mock-sympathized, stepping backward and slipping on the cap. "Big brother Jack temporarily incapable to do the day-savin'?" He snickered in a sickening hiss. "Hey Gimp, getta load a' this."

He quickly jabbed Jack in the shin with his crutch, dropping him down to his knees and out of Crutchie's grasp with a shout.

"What's the matter?" Morris asked. "Though ya were a cowboy, or a thief, whatever ya go by these days. Can't ya stand, son?"

Jack heaved with hatred and looked away without a word. It hurt Crutchie to see him so defenseless, but even more, it made his blood boil.

"Can't ya?" Morris repeatedly prodded Jack with the bottom of the crutch.

In a split-second determination, Crutchie hopped up onto his good leg and whacked the cap off of Morris' head with his crutch. Morris stumbled back, dropping Jack's crutch and holding the back of his skull. "What the hell...?"

The boy tucked his crutch back under his arm and grabbed the snake by the tie, dragging him staggering back forward.

"Ya listen to me," Crutchie began evenly. "Jack could kick your ass and spit you out sideways-up, and you know that. I could very well do the same. Ya know why?" He smiled brilliantly. "No one saves my day but me. And besides, you screw with my family, ya screw wid' me."

Crutchie let go of Morris' tie and he slipped back, startled and speechless, until he tripped on a loose cobblestone in the sidewalk and toppled straight over.

Crutchie limped over with surprising speed and looked down on him. "What's wrong?" He asked, jabbing the bottom of his crutch onto the ground right next to his head. "Can't ya stand?"

Morris scrambled to his feet and gave one last glare to each of the boys before muttering "Stupid crips" and awkwardly hurrying away.

Crutchie dropped the grin and let out a deep exhale, watching him leave.

Dammit, that felt good.

"Crutch..."

He looked back over his shoulder to find Jack Kelly still sitting on the ground, completely awestruck. "Kid, how did you..."

Crutchie let the silence hang and looked away, trying to find the answer. He scooped Jack's hat off of the sidewalk. He was a punching bag himself, and he knew that. And after all these years, he had learned to live with it. He learned to laugh along. Reminders still hurt, but when the Delanceys pushed him around, it wasn't as bad as it seemed.

What hurt more was seeing a glimpse of a world where Jack have to carry that weight. He hated always having to stand by and watch as someone more enabled fought all the battles - at times, his own. But this was his score to settle. This was his favor to his brother.

Jack sat sheepishly, sensitive to the few times that Crutchie ever turned a tone so dark. He didn't know exactly what he had said or done, but he knew he really didn't like seeing him like this.

So the silence hung.

"Hey, Crutchie," he called after a while.

The younger boy looked back over to see Jack holding his crutch upside-down against the pavement under his forearm. "I think I finally got it."

Crutchie smiled crookedly and handed him his hat. "You're hopeless."

"I got you," Jack replied as he put it back on. "So, you gonna teach me how to walk again, or what?"


End file.
